


Somebody I Used To Know

by Stormchild



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-07-23 04:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20002135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormchild/pseuds/Stormchild
Summary: After a nervous breakdown, Pietro ends up at the Xavier Institute, forcing the X-Men and the Brotherhood to re-evaluate their relationships with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where the fuck I'm going with this, but the idea kept me up all night so we'll see!

In Charles' dream, he's suffocating. Darkness surrounds him. There's no air around him, nothing to enter his lungs. He screams but no sound came out.

He jerks awake with a gasp.

He can breathe, physically, but the world still feels muffled to him. Has he gone deaf? No, no, he can still hear crickets chirping outside. Then what is this weight around his-

Not Magnus' helmet. Would he really be that bold?

Something cold and sharp touches the edge of Charles' skin. A knife.

"Don't move."

The voice doesn't belong to Magnus. It's too young and high, and filled with a fear that Magnus would never allow himself to have.

"Pietro?"

He rolls his eyes towards the shadowed figure, not daring to turn his head. As he becomes accustomed to the darkness, he can make out the thin frame and white hair. The shape of his face clears, sharp bones that are the only thing he inherited from Magda Maximoff.

"Pietro, what are you doing?"

"Shut up. Don’t talk."

The words are rushed and frantic. His breath shakes, and he pushes a hand through his hair.

Charles swallows. The cold blade kisses his skin.

"Did your father send you?"

Pietro lets out a jagged exhale and pushes his hair back again. It falls over his face in a frantic disarray.

"I said, shut up!"

He's crying. It comes as a shock to Charles, not because of the act itself but because it took so long for him to realize. With the helmet blocking his telepathy, he has no way to call for help, no way to know what the boy is thinking. He can do whatever he wants before anybody else even realizes he was here. He could have easily forced the helmet on and killed everyone in the mansion before Charles even awoke. God, what if he had? What if that's why he's shaking so badly?

No. No. Pietro isn't a monster. Even if Magneto told him to, surely there are lines even he wouldn't cross. And surely not even Magneto would give such an order.

He has to remind himself to breathe. He has to stay calm here. Pietro is a very intelligent young man, if not reckless and impulsive. He can, in theory, be reasoned with. If Pietro wanted to kill him, he would be dead by now. He has to remember that and take it as a good sign.

"Did Magneto send you?" No answer. "Pietro, did you steal you father's helmet?"

Pietro chokes on a sob.

"He's going to kill me when he finds out."

Despite the fact that he's effectively a hostage, Charles can't help feel a twinge of sympathy at the crack in Pietro's voice. He wants to reassure him that it wasn't true, but they both know it is. Magneto won't take this lightly. And as much as it pains Charles to think, it would be like him to make an example of Pietro. Of course, Charles doesn't think he would actually _murder_ his own son, but he would certainly teach him a lesson.

"Pietro." His voice is softer this time. "Why don't you turn the light on and let me sit up so we can talk."

The knife shakes against his skin. The press isn't enough to draw blood, but it's plenty to make him anxious.

Pietro sniffs and hiccups, but he doesn't pull back.

"Pietro, it's very difficult for me to talk to you when I can't even see your face."

"If you try anything, I'll cut your throat out."

He says it with such conviction, even if his voice is rough, that Charles' spine feels cold. There's a flash at the back of his mind of Ororo finding him in the morning and-

No. No, he can't let himself go down that path. He has to keep himself together. If he lets himself see Pietro as an enemy here, Pietro will see it and he won't have a chance. For now, he has to pretend to trust the boy. When he settles down and removes the helmet, he can take action. All he would need is a couple of seconds to enter Pietro's mind and shut him down.

Though he might not even have that time.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Would you mind?"

The words are barely out of his mouth before he's blinded. He squints and turns his head away from the light. The knife is back against his jugular, a silent reminder not to move too far. It takes longer to adjust to the light than it did to the dark. By the time Charles is used to it, Pietro is already fidgeting. He turns his head back to the boy. Anything he was going to say is forgotten.

A large, hand-shaped bruise circles the front of his throat. His nostril is caked with dried blood, and his lip is split on the same side.

There's no question of who could have done this. But still, Charles has to ask.

"Who do you think?" Pietro spits.

"Why would he do this to you?"

Pietro laughs and rubs his eye with the heel of the hand holding the knife. Part of Charles' mind screams at him to grab it. It should be so easy. And with anyone else, it might be.

"Because he's a fucking psychopath, that's why. He's a psychopath, and you left me with him!"

If that didn't wake somebody…

Is that why Pietro is here? Because he's looking for somebody to blame? How could Pietro possibly think he is in any way responsible for Magneto's behaviour?

Because Charles _had_ left him.

The guilt he'd been suppressing for over ten years almost knocks the wind out of him. For a moment, he can't breathe. He'd found a hundred ways to ignore the fact that he'd left two small children in the care of a man who had more than the occasional violent tendency, convinced himself that he'd atoned for it by helping other mutant children, by helping Wanda. He'd convinced himself it was enough.

It clearly wasn't. And yet…

"What else was I supposed to do?" he whispers.

"You were supposed to protect us! You were supposed to stay or-- or take us with you!"

"Do you really think Magneto would have let me?"

"It shouldn't have mattered!"

He's going to wake everyone in the mansion at this rate. Charles has to remind himself that that isn't a bad thing. But Pietro grabs a fistful of his hair, the knife coming close to his scalp, and Charles worries for him. His breathing is laboured, painful-sounding.

The door clicks open. Charles' heart stops. The knife is on the hollow of his throat.

"Chuck, you ok-" Logan unsheathes his claws. "Take it easy, kid."

"Close the door. Move away from it. Now. If you try anything, I'll kill everyone in this place."

Pietro's words are rushed. Charles can barely make them out, but Logan closes the door as quietly as possible and moves towards the end of Charles' bed. Charles wants nothing more than to make eye contact, to silently tell Logan to just listen to Pietro, to do what he wants, to tell Jean to tell the students to go back to their rooms and stay there if they're awake. But he doesn't dare look away from Pietro, not when he's shaking and nearly hyperventilating with the knife still against his skin. They have to de-escalate him, calm him down. Then, only then, can they do more.

"Think about what you're doing," Logan says.

"Shut up! Don't talk. Just-- Just shut up." Pietro coughs and rubs his mouth with his free hand. "You'll save every mutant on the planet, even _Avalanche_ , of all people. But not me. Why wasn't I worth saving?"

Charles squeezes his eyes shut. It's a fair question. He would have been lying if he denied ever asking it of himself. The time he spent with Wanda had often made him wonder what therapy sessions with Pietro would be like. Now he knows.

It isn't that Pietro isn't _worth_ saving. It's that he can't be saved. Magneto's claws are hooked too deep in him. Trying to _save_ him would be suicide.

But Pietro won't understand that. Especially not now.

"It isn't like that, Pietro. It's… complicated."

"You were my family. You were s-supposed to protect me."

The words, combined with the bruising on his face, are something out of Charles' nightmares.

"I know. I failed you, and I'm sorry. But there was nothing I could have done for you. You know that. He broke my spine. What do you think he would have done if I tried taking you away from him? Do you think he would have just stood by and let it happen?"

"He experimented on me! Turned me into a weapon! How could- How could _you_ let that happen?"

"Pietro, believe me, if I'd known-"

"And what about when he abandoned me? You could have come for me anytime then, but you didn't. You just left me to take care of myself. And then you treat me like the bad guy for it!"

He's sure Pietro didn't want to hear that he didn't know Magnus had abandoned him. Whatever Magnus had done to him in those experiments made it impossible for Charles to find him. Pietro likely wouldn't believe that Charles had checked in on him every day using Cerebro until he could no longer identify Pietro's mutant signature.

He'd thought -- perhaps even hoped -- Pietro was dead. It seems the reality of it was worse.

"You were stealing. What was I supp-"

"I was being raped! Again and again, by _so_ many people. What I was doing was to survive, so I didn't have to keep doing that. But you don't give a shit! None of you do!"

Much, much worse.

Emotion thickens Pietro's voice with an accent Charles remembers from the boy's childhood. Magnus had shaken his own accent after decades of practice. It reminds Charles of the small, black-haired boy who would always make a face when his father would snap at him to speak English. Charles had always forced himself to tolerate German-Polish-Romani mix, though it had always given him a headache. He'd loved Magnus and because he loved Magnus, he loved Magnus' children.

Now, that boy is a young man, as broken as his English had been back then.

Whatever Pietro says next is lost. Charles only hears a shrill buzzing. He watches Pietro's blurred movements, feeling numb. This feeling normally sends panic through him but now, he's too focused on Pietro. The experiments… He'd known about them since he'd first sat down with Wanda. There was nothing he could have done.

But the rest… Good God. He should have been able to do something about the rest. He can't find the words to apologize. There aren't any.

" _I don't want to live like this anymore!_ "

"Don't do this, kid. You don't have to do this! Charles!"

Charles forces himself to look at Pietro.

He holds the switchblade to his own throat now. He's still shaking, but there's a look of resignation in his eyes. It's the look of someone who'd thought of doing this, maybe even tried it, a thousand times before.

_Do it_ , Charles thinks. _You've suffered through too much, and it likely won't end here. It'll be kinder on yourself if you end it now._

Pietro doesn't react. The helmet still blocks Charles' telepathic influence. It seems almost cruel to stop him. What kind of life would Pietro have, always under Magneto's thumb?

Logan clearly doesn't see it that way. He inches forward, his hands raised and palms open.

"You don't want to do this," he says. "You have your entire life ahead of you."

"I know. That's the problem!"

"Look, what Magneto did is… There aren't words to describe it. And what those other people did is even worse. You're still just a kid. You didn't deserve any of that. Nobody does."

Pietro shakes his head. By this point, they're only feet apart.

"I can't promise we can protect you from Magneto. God knows _I_ can't. But--" Logan glances back at Charles. "-- we owe it to you to try. What do you say? Can you give me the knife?"

"I-- I can't. Lance gave it to me."

But Pietro does pull it from his neck and close it before holding it against his chest. There's sadness in his voice that hadn't been there a moment ago. Are he and Lance…? That's a question for later. As Logan spoke, Charles realized he's right. They owe it to him to find another, better way to help Pietro than letting him end his life.

More than that, they can use this to their advantage. With Pietro here, the Brotherhood has lost their most terrifying weapon. _Magnus_ has lost his most terrifying weapon. They can end this quickly and painlessly.

"We won't take it from you," he assures. "Logan will set you up in one of the spare rooms."

"Father's helmet."

Charles pushes himself up onto his elbow. Before he can reach up for the helmet, it's gone. Finally, he can breathe again. He reaches out to Pietro's mind but it's a mess. There are too many thoughts and images moving too quickly for Charles to focus on any.

' _You okay, Chuck?'_

_'I'm better now. Please make sure he has everything he needs.'_

_'I think he needs a hell of a lot more than what we can offer.'_

_'I know, Logan. Do what you can. Get him something to eat. He must be starving.'_

_'Will do.'_

Logan guides Pietro out of the room. It isn't until the door closes behind them that Charles can begin to relax. And even then, he can only relax so much.

He lifts himself up to a sitting position. He would have asked for Logan's help, but he needs Logan to watch Pietro more right now. With a slow exhale, he presses his fingers to his temples. Part of him hopes this doesn't work.

_'Magnus? Magnus, can you hear me?'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Magneto is 0% parent material.

_‘Magnus? Magnus, can you hear me?'_

It isn't a dream.

Erik bolts awake. He reaches for his helmet but it isn't there. What--?

_'Charles! What have you done?'_

His heart is in his throat. How many seconds would it be before Charles subdues him? Turns off the part of his brain responsible for breathing, wipes his mind, forces him to submit. Anything is possible when Charles is in his head.

He has to find his spare helmet, now.

_'Magnus, please, I just want to talk.'_

_'The time for talk has passed, Charles.'_

Keep him distracted. Find the helmet. Block him out.

He fumbles in the dark. Panic blocks out any thought of lights.

There. On the bookshelf.

He lunges for it. He holds the cold, blue metal in his hands. Whatever Charles is planning, he's failed. It's over.

_'It's about Pietro.'_

Erik freezes. Pietro? In his mind, he doesn't picture Pietro. He pictures himself at Pietro's age, with white hair instead of black. He always sees himself in Pietro. The boy reminds him of the frightened, lost child he had been so many years ago. It makes him hate his own son for reminding him that he had ever been like that which, in turn, makes him hate himself.

_'What have you done to him?'_

_'What have_ I _done to him? Magnus, you tortured him. You abused him._ I _did nothing to him.'_

_'Everything I did to him was to make him strong.'_

And he failed. Pietro is still too soft, too weak. He takes too much after his mother. He's too much like her. Worse, he's too much like Anya. His pretty, delicate face, his love affair with dance, his sensitivity. His weakness. His humanity. He will die if Magneto can't make him strong.

_'Oh, Magnus… How could you treat your own child like this? He's terrified of you.'_

_'As he should be.'_

Can Charles tell his hands are shaking? Can Charles feel the nausea rising in the back of his throat? Can Charles see the guilt and the shame on his face?

No. No. Charles can only read his thoughts. If Erik keeps his thoughts clear, he would be fine.

' _He came here tonight with your helmet.'_

_'He what? That traitor!'_

The table lamp twists into an unrecognizable shape.

_'Magnus, please. It wasn't like that. He used it to block my telepathy while he threatened me.'_

Another surge of rage rolls through him. The metal walls creak. What was that idiot thinking? Did he think Erik wanted him to do that? To hurt Charles?

_'I think he planned on killing himself tonight.'_

Erik wraps his arms around his stomach without fully realizing it, reacting to the words before he's fully processed them. The helmet clatters unceremoniously to the floor. He can taste bile at the back of his throat.

How can he admit that this wouldn't be the first time? How can he admit that he's seen the faded scars running down the length of Pietro's forearms, looking as though they'd been there for years though they hadn't been there the day before? How can he admit he's seen the broken look in Pietro's eyes so many times before?

How can he admit that this is his fault?

Pietro is weak, he reminds himself. He isn't like Wanda. If he can't survive in this world, then he…

He's Magda's son. If her son dies, then he's lost the only part of her he has left.

His own weakness sickens him.

_'What am I supposed to do, Charles? I can't watch him all the time.'_

_'You could stop hitting him, for starters.'_

_'How else am I supposed to deal with him? He's impossible. It's the only way he'll listen.'_

Pain washes over him, but it isn't his pain. God, how could he have forgotten Charles' step-father? He must have heard words like that so many times.

_'There are better ways to raise a child.'_

Charles' thoughts are soft, more gentle than they should be. He's right, and it makes Erik's blood surge through his veins. He isn't ready to acknowledge that he's a failure as a father, that he's failed all three of his children. That if Pietro did kill himself, the lives of two of his children would be on his hands.

A world where his son is dead flashes through Erik's mind. He can't do this.

_'If you think you can do better with him, then do it. Keep him.'_

_'Magnus, be reasonable.'_

_'If I ever see him again, I will kill him myself. Understand that, Charles.'_ God, what is he saying? _'And I want my helmet back.'_

With that, Erik slips the spare helmet on. His mind, the room, suddenly feel very quiet, quiet enough that he can hear his heart beating in his ears. And it is beating fast. He drops to his knees and braces himself with his arms. The tears don't fall, but he dry-heaves over the carpet. He ruined his children. All of them. There is something about him that just ruins the people he loves.

And he does love his children, even though it's impossible for him to admit.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He isn't getting back to sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I should be studying or working on original material right now T.T And yet. Here I am. Still no idea where I'm going with this, which is probably why I'm working on it. Unstructured stuff is fun!
> 
> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com where I have a tip jar if you like my work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan does his best.

Walking the still-shaking speedster armed with a switchblade and Magneto's helmet to one of the spare rooms, Logan realizes he isn't going to be getting much sleep tonight. It isn't that he thinks Pietro isn't up to something. It's just that he clearly doesn't have much impulse control, and he definitely has a grudge against Charles and the X-Men.

Not that Logan can really blame him. They're supposed to protect kids like Pietro. God knows he needed them as much as anyone else.

The room is bare compared to the others in the house. There's no personality to it. Pietro doesn't seem to mind. He wriggles out of his jeans while Logan looks away tactfully.

"You can look if you want," he says. "I don't mind."

"I don't want to."

What the hell is wrong with this kid? And-- is it just him, or does he actually look hurt by that? Jesus.

"Then don't look," he snaps.

Logan is too tired to point out he wasn't looking. He lets the kid change into the too-large sweats and t-shirt stuffed into one of the drawers. They hang off his body, making him look so much smaller than before. Logan doesn't trust the kid half as far as he can throw him -- which actually might be pretty far given his size -- but the sight still makes his heart tighten.

Pietro sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at the knife in his hands. If that doesn't worry the hell out of Logan…

"You want to talk about it, kid?"

"I… I can't go home anymore, can I?"

His voice is rough, and Logan almost regrets being suspicious. That image of Pietro holding the knife to his own throats flashes through his mind again. He's seen kids take their own lives before, during the war. At least, he thinks he has. The memories are still fuzzy, but that image brings something back.

He wants to comfort Pietro, tell him it's not that bad. But the truth is, he's probably right. Best case, Magneto makes the kid work for forgiveness, but Logan can't imagine it'll come cheap.

"You can stay here long as you need."

Pietro laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Everyone here hates me. You think they're going to be okay with me here?"

It sounds rhetorical. Truth is, the only person he can think of who's ever said anything nice about Pietro that wasn't about his looks \-- teenagers \-- is Rogue, once, in passing. Something about him helping her understand functions. There's no love lost between the Brotherhood and the X-Men. They drove Avalanche away. What does he think they'll do with their biggest enemy's son?

"They'll live with it." He pauses. "What about you? You aren't going to hurt yourself if I leave you alone, are you?"

Pietro looks up at him with bloodshot eyes. The cut in his lip has closed up.

"What about you? You going to kill me soon as I'm asleep?"

Logan almost flinches back. What is it with the Brotherhood kids thinking he's going to kill them? First Rogue thinking he'll throw her out of the jet, now this.

As much as he hates to admit it, the fear isn't unwarranted. Before Rogue joined, and even occasionally after, they had run Danger Room sims against the Brotherhood. Quicksilver is a secret fear of Charles'. A kid with the ruthlessness of Magneto who can break the sound barrier without trying? It takes at least two of them to take him down if they can distract him enough. They'd be stupid not to prepare for him.

But the Pietro sitting in front of him, clutching his father's helmet to his chest like a stuffed animal, isn't the Pietro he trained against.

"Not if you don't give me a reason."

The kid is quiet for a second.

"I'm tired," he said. "I just want to sleep for a few hours. I'll be gone by morning."

There's a clock on the bedside table telling them morning is only a few hours away. Logan is scared of where he's going to go if he leaves. Too scared to ask. But he can't force Pietro to stay.

"Just holler if you need anything."

Logan's room is only down the hall, but he can't make himself go that far. If Pietro tries climbing out the window, there's nothing he can do about that. What worries him is that knife. He keeps thinking about some faceless soldier, a kid maybe just older than Pietro, with a gun instead of a knife.

He sits outside the bedroom door and doesn't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just about done wrapping up edits on my newest book. If you're curious about my original work, hmu on tumblr (mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com) where I also have a tip jar if you like my work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Scott doesn't trust Pietro for shit.

"I'm not okay with this," Scott says.

By the looks on everyone's faces, none of them are.

They aren't entirely sure what went down a few nights ago. All they know is Jean woke up with a warning flashing through her mind, only for Logan to scream into her mind that everything was fine, to make sure she and the other X-Men stay in their rooms. And now Quicksilver is living in the mansion? Everything is not fine.

"It's not really up to us, is it?" Jean says, though the way she fidgets makes it clear she agrees. Her voice drops to a whisper. "I can't even read his mind. At least with Avalanche, we knew why he was here."

"Do you think they were planning something together?"

"Paranoid much?" Kitty says. "Lance wasn't planning anything. Pietro, though? I say he's definitely up to something."

"You only think that because you're fighting for the same guy," Kurt says.

Kitty scowls, but she doesn't deny it. Scott has to wonder if maybe Lance does have something to do with why Pietro is here. Kurt's right, Lance and Pietro seem to have the occasional something going on, even if it is one-sided. Maybe the on-and-off thing Lance had with Kitty was something he could handle, but Lance leaving him for good? And joining the enemy to do it?

Scott spares a subtle glance at Jean. He can believe it's enough to make someone snap.

"If the Professor trusts him, then…" Jean doesn't finish her thought.

They can't possibly trust him. The Professor can't possibly trust him.

_'Scott, I'd like to see you in the library. Now, please. It's urgent.'_

After so many years, he's used to the Professor's voice in his mind. While it had freaked him out at first, it's comforting now. Knowing that his father-figure is only a thought away.

"Professor needs me," he said, excusing himself.

He finds the professor alone, sitting in his chair with Magneto's helmet on his lap. Scott's breath catches in his throat.

"How--"

"It's a long story," Charles says. He sounds tired and for the first time, Scott notices the shadows under his eyes. "I need you to take this back to him."

"What? Are you out of your mind? We have Magneto's helmet. We can finally beat him now. We can--"

"Do you really believe he doesn't have more? Returning this is a sign of good faith."

"I'm not doing it. Make Pietro do it." How did Charles even get... "That's why he's here, isn't it? Because he stole Magneto's helmet?"

The thin press of the Professor's lips is the only answer he needs. Scott snorts in disbelief and shakes his head.

"You're sending me to save him?"

"Magneto requested you specifically."

Memories of Asteroid M come back to him. Magneto had taken an interest in him and Alex then. It has to be a trap. Pietro is setting them up. The sneaky son of a bitch…

"I don't... feel safe doing this," he admits.

The professor sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. By the looks of it, he hadn't slept since Pietro showed up. Looks like Scott isn't the only one who can't sleep with the little sociopath down the hall. Why is he even letting Pietro stay here? They should send him back to the Brotherhood. He doesn't belong here.

There's a familiar pop and a puff of smoke that makes Scott cough.

"You can't let him do this alone," Kurt says, betraying himself as an eavesdropper. "You don't know what Magneto might be planning."

"He isn't planning anything," Charles insists.

"So you think all of this is a coincidence?" Scott asks. "Pietro shows up here with Magneto's helmet and now, Magneto wants me to bring it to him?"

Again, the professor sighs. How can he be so totally blind to what's obviously going on? Magneto is trying to break them from the inside. And the professor is too good to see it.

"Fine, take Kurt with you. But be careful, both of you. Don't start a fight with him. And if he tries anything, leave immediately. He wants you to meet him at an art museum in New York, 351 Fifth Avenue North."

"When are we meeting him?"

"In an hour."

An hour? It doesn't give Scott much time to get there alone. Good thing Kurt can't mind his own business.

Scott leaves to get changed into something more presentable than sweats and a faded Bayville High shirt. He passes Pietro in the hall. Cold, blue eyes burn into him. His admittedly pretty lips are twisted into a menacing scowl, and Scott sees, not for the first time, the resemblance to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know.  
> I've been having a Month. But I wrote something, so win?
> 
> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com where I have a tip jar if you like my work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Magneto is only a little bit of the biggest asshole ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't actually expect anybody to want this! But I've got enough comments that I decided to do another chapter.

The gallery is quiet, and Erik likes it that way. Without his helmet and backup, a crowd would make him more nervous than he likes to admit. Nobody pays any attention to the old man, sitting on a bench alone and staring up at a painting. There's something in it's simplicity that he likes. In another lifetime, he might have brought his twins here.

He never did, though. Never spent more time with them than entirely necessary. Pietro liked museums, though, and leaving him in one or in a library was always the easiest way to get him out of the way for an afternoon. He was always a very quick learning, an incredibly intelligent child. Any other father would have been proud, but Erik wouldn't let himself feel something like that. Pride feels too much like attachment.

Scott and Kurt find him, only slightly late. Erik would have scolded Pietro for it but with them, it's forgivable. He doesn't hold others to the same high standards that he holds Pietro. That he holds himself.

"We brought you your helmet," Scott says, tense.

He keeps his distance, and Erik doesn't blame him. Erik doesn't look at them, especially not Kurt. Mystique's child, the one he'd taken from her. He wonders absently if Mystique ever tried to take Pietro from her in retaliation. The woman doesn't have a maternal bone in her body, but she understands vengeance. It would be just like her to put this insane trick of stealing his helmet to confront Charles in Pietro's head. The boy is weak, Erik reminds himself, easily manipulated. Not his fault.

"You know, this was painted by a Polish artist just before the War," Erik says absently, his attention still on the wall ahead of him.

He imagines, without really meaning to, his son's bored look. Pietro would have already read the description beneath the frame and studied it to death. It doesn't occur to Erik until then that he's lonely. This isn't the first time he's abandoned his boy. It should be easier this time but the betrayal makes it worse. It makes him realize that he's pushed away everyone he loves. Charles, Magda, Wanda… Pietro. If Anya had lived, he would have pushed her away, too.

His thought had been that if Charles is going to take his son, then Erik will just take his. It would be easy. He's already given Scott a taste of what he had to offer. What it would be like to be able to live without those glasses. But now that Scott and Kurt are here, he realizes that they're a flimsy substitute for Magda's boy.

"Yeah," Scott says dismissively, "it's nice."

He hadn't even looked.

Erik suppresses a sigh and takes the bag his helmet is in. The metal buzzes beneath the fabric. He clenches his teeth together but the question escapes him anyway.

"How is he?"

"The professor?"

Erik's stomach tightens. Scott doesn't even think about Pietro, does he? Frankly, he's surprised Scott hasn't dragged Pietro back to Erik with no regard for the consequences he would face. Perhaps he'd wanted to. He doesn't care about him, won't protect him from the cruelty of this world.

Though, the same could be said of the woman Eric had left Pietro with some four, five years ago. She was supposed to make him strong. All she did was make him a whore. Nobody is going to protect Pietro but him, and Pietro rejected that protection. But still, Erik needs to know how he is.

"Pietro," Erik says with curt coldness.

"Oh." A pause, frown. "He's fine, I guess. I haven't really see him."

"What are you going to do to him?" Kurt asks.

Erik recognizes the accent. It's a region he visited once when he was, oh, three or four years older than them. After the camps, before he'd found Magda again. He doesn't remember her face anymore. The only memory is in a faded photograph of his family. Of himself, her, and Anya. The girl he was supposed to protect.

What would Magda say if she knew what he'd done to her other children? To her precious little twins. Would she understand he was only trying to protect them? To give them the fighting chance she and Anya had never had?

No. She would only see him as a monster. She wouldn't understand that they wouldn't live forever, that they couldn't protect their children forever. Magda had always been soft. It was one of the things he'd loved most about her.

The question comes back to him. What is he going to do to Pietro?

"Nothing," he says. "Because that's what he is to me now."

The boys flinch back at the cruelty of his words.

Eric has accepted every part of his son. His mutation, of course. His sexuality. His tendency to dress as a woman -- bigender, he calls it, whatever the hell that means. He may not understand it but it's part of who his boy is. But this... This betrayal is too much. He knows that if he sees Pietro again, he will hurt him. He doesn't want to, but he won't be able to stop himself. He can normally justify it, tell himself it's because he wants his boy to be strong, to be able to survive. But he knows he can't convince himself this time. It's blind rage that fuels his urge to hit the boy that looks so much like himself at that age.

Everything he had done to Pietro so far, every time he had lashed out at him, it would be nothing compared to what he could do. It's better if he stays away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com where I have a tip jar if you like my work.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at mechanicalpoet.tumblr.com, where I have a tip jar if you enjoy my work.


End file.
